


A Lovely Sort of Staccato

by bitchslaplouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Marriage, One Direction Imagines, One Direction Preferences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchslaplouis/pseuds/bitchslaplouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wake up in a room you don't know... married to a man you've never met... Living in a house you've never seen... Detachment and separation might be putting it lightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovely Sort of Staccato

Waking up wasn’t easy. Or painless. In fact, it was incredibly painful. When you woke up, your first and only thought was really to go back to sleep. For a couple hours. Or even a couple weeks. A nice, light coma sounded pretty fantastic. All this ran through your head before you even opened your eyes. You became aware of another person, fingers running softly up and down your arm in a gentle, almost absent-minded sort of fashion, the way someone might casually touch a loved way. But that was impossible. You had no one like that in your life.

“Love?” A soft voice asked, the gentle fingers moving down to grasp your hand. You finally opened your eyes, pulling your hand out of his grasp and trying to scoot away. That’s when you registered the all the wires attached to you. Thankfully, aside from the needle in your right hand, nothing else was sticking out of you. You turned your attention from your wired up state to the man sitting next to you. At first glance, he appeared to be hardly more than a boy, with soft features and a too easy gentleness about him. But as you looked closer, he seemed to age in front of you. You saw the exhaustion in his countenance, the sadness in his eyes, the deep bags accentuating them, the shadow dusting his jaw that appeared to be more from neglect than anything else.

“Who are you?” you whispered, your voice rough and barely existent. The sadness in his eyes deepened and that unfamiliarly deep blue became watery. He didn’t push you, didn’t reach for you again, just sat back and tried to hold eye contact with you.

“I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson.” The name meant nothing to you, giving no glimmer of recognition or triggering any memories. He searched your face for what felt like an excessively long time before heaving a deep sigh. “Would you like me to get your mum?”

“Yes, please?” You whispered. Despite not knowing him, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes from his face. There was something lovely about him, something complex and exciting and soothing… You watched him stand and turn away and you couldn’t help one last look. “Thank you.”

He looked back, his face soft and a small smile dancing along his mouth. He nodded once, giving you a real smile for just a moment before he disappeared around the corner. Your mother was with you only a moment later and she nearly pounced on you, smothering you in a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re awake!” She cried, being careful of the wires while holding you to her tightly. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” was your automatic response, but this was your mother, she knew it was more than that and you knew she knew and she waited for you to continue. “Kind of… muddled? Like almost foggy. Some things aren’t really making sense. That guy? Louis Tomlinson? Is he a volunteer here or something?” Your mom sat back in the chair Louis had just vacated slowly as you talked and you saw that one of her hands was clenched shut around something.

“Do you remember why you’re here?” She asked, her voice softening. It occurred to you that, no, you really didn’t know why you were wired up in the hospital. You shook your head. “You were in an accident, honey. You had a concussion and some serious brain injury. You were on life support, barely living.” Your mother took a deep breath. “There was a procedure. Completely experimental. A small surgery and a “miracle” drug could possibly save you and return brain function back to normal in the damaged areas but they weren’t sure exactly how it might affect you. They said the medication, the drugs they gave you, might have some adverse side effects on your memory.”

“My memory’s fine,” you said softly.

“Sweetheart…” Her hand slid over yours and she held it tightly.

“Mom…” Rather than answering or further explaining, she opened her other hand, the one she had being clenching shut since she walked in, and dropped a ring into your hand. It was small, a thin braided band of silver with a beautifully cut, if small, diamond set amid pale blue stones. “Mom, what is this?” Like with that man, Louis, earlier, you had no recollection of the ring but you felt like you were drawn to it. “It’s beautiful but I do not know what it is.”

“It’s an engagement ring.”

“So? I don’t even have a boyfriend. It’s obviously not mine.” Maybe your mom was the crazy one. You’d never had anyone in your life, not male or female.

“Y/N…” Your mom sighed deeply. “Where are we?”

“Huh?”

“What city are we in?”

“Jeff, duh,” you answered, citing your hometown to where you’d recently returned after graduating college and being offered a job. Your mother didn’t respond, only passed you the pamphlet sitting on the bedside table. You didn’t quite register the address written below the unfamiliar name of the hospital because it didn’t make any sense. You were apparently in a town you’ve never heard of, in a hospital room, wired up with no memory of how you got there. “Mom, what the fuck is going on?”

Normally, she would have chided you for the language, but she let it slide. Sighing deeply yet again, she closed your hand over the ring and held it shut. “Four years ago, you moved here. To this town. You were offered your dream job and you accepted. You moved into a small apartment downtown and you met someone.”

“Me.” A voice came from the doorway, shattering the moment between you and your mother. The man from earlier, Louis Tomlinson, was standing there with his hands in the pockets of his well-fitted slacks. His whole attire was simple and professional for the most part, wearing a bright button up, gray suspenders, and dirty, scuffed white sneakers. He had a pair of glasses stuffed into his breast pocket as well.

“I don’t know you,” you shouted, frustration building. Louis handed you a phone that you didn’t recognize which was locked. “It’s locked.”

“Use your unlock.” His voice was patient.

“This isn’t my phone,” you insisted, trying to hand it back.

“Y/N. Just. Humor me.” Sighing deeply (and sounding eerily like your mother), you used your unlock pattern on the screen and it worked.

“This isn’t my phone?” You asked. Louis stared at you patiently. Your mother nodded at you encouragingly so you started looking through the phone. The contacts first. You recognized most of them but there were a good number that you’d never seen before. Then the pictures. A lot of you… a lot of your parents and siblings… pets… but the vast majority were of Louis. Louis at restaurants, Louis in parks, Louis smiling, Louis laughing, Louis sticking his tongue out at the camera… This phone was full of photos of a man you had no memories of. But you didn’t quite believe it was yours until you found your account, with your name, logged into every single app on the phone. You didn’t realize you were crying until your mother passed you a tissue. “I don’t remember…” you whispered, looking up at your mother and this sad, blue-eyed man.

“It’s okay.” Your mother said, pressing your hand gently. “We’re going to help you.”

After that, Louis left for a while. A doctor finally came in and talked to you for a long time, explaining basically what your mother said. The drug that helped your neurons repair themselves also damaged some of them. It was a complex mess with a bunch of technical terms you didn’t fully understand. He said that there was some treatment that might help if you were willing to try it. But because you were fully functional, aside from the memory problems, you were being released and sent home. But not with your mother. No, she was staying in a hotel. With your fiancé. Louis.

Because that engagement ring was yours.

And Louis was yours.


End file.
